Immigrant’s Journey to Success It was early July of 1992, just four days right after the United States Independence Day, my arrival to the “land of opportunities” was a mixture of excitements and worries. After fifteen long years of not seeing my family, I was reunited with them and the long wait was finally over. After three days and two long nights of traveling, the plane finally arrived to the Los Angeles airport; I was feeling so nervous but at the same time, I was very happy to see them. As I approached the arrival station, I immediately saw my family and I started running towards them and gave each other warm, big, and very tight hugs. Warm tears started pouring down both my cheeks without me realizing that this was even happening. Suddenly, …show more content…
It seemed as if it was just yesterday. I had many struggles during my journey in my goal of mastering the language. Despite of my desire of learning it, I had a very low comprehension of what was being spoken about and I was not able to understand people less enunciate English words; everything was alien to me: the language, the food, the climate, the people, the whole environment was all new to me and that’s when I became depressed and had isolated myself from the world. That was the hardest experience and a devastating moment of my life. A year later, I managed to wake up and survive by enrolling to an ESL, English as A Second Language classes. It was not easy but I promised myself to learn it quickly if I wanted to be noticed and to be able to reach my dream of being successful. I studied English real hard and had practiced speaking it day and night and in every situation, places, no matter if other people would make fun of my accent or even when my mother would get angry at me because I would not speak to her in our native tongue; I
It was the summer of 1944 a year that would change my life. The dream I was having was abruptly interrupted by the loud voice of my mom yelling “Amante wake up!” Today was the day we were moving from Venice Italy to the great city of New York. There had been many bombing throughout Italy and we decided to pack up and live the American dream. I had been waiting for this day for years I had seen pictures and heard about America’s beauty but I couldn’t wait to see it in real life. The whole Dinardo family was excited to go, including me and my little sister Angelina. Angelina was only 8 years old. We’re seven years apart. She had golden blonde hair the color of honey and freckles dotted across her face. My dad walked excitedly into my room telling me that
Eight men and my mother wanted to work in the U.S., so they had to travel by bus 100 miles from southern Mexico. But the next 200 miles they had to walk through the desert in order to cross into the U.S. illegally. It was late July. Temperatures reached 110 degrees in the shade of southern Mexico, and several notches higher in the desert sun. While the bus traveled through the dirt road, my mother stood frozen in the old musty seat. Her throat constricted. She could hear the blood pounding in her ears. Every muscle in her body screamed at her to ret...
Do you take your language skills, typically learned in mandatory English classes, for granted? Jimmy Santiago Baca, Gareth Cook, and I certainly do not. Baca writes “Coming into Language,” to share his story of learning to read and write while being incarcerated in prison for drug possession. Whereas Cook, in spite of past experiences of shame and ridicule in school, tells his tale of being dyslexic by writing “Living with Dyslexia.” While I’m not an author I did grow up feeling isolated from people in my own age group and, due to a restless mind, developed insomnia in my early teenage years. Despite these differences, all of us went through hardships of forcing our minds to learn new material, growing up without
Finally, the experienced you faced in life are the only ones who make you improve in life. These three experiences have made me more powerful, more secure of my self. Now I’m in 12th grade and I have learn more and a better English, is not perfect, but, I understand more then before, and I can write better then in 8th and 9th grade, everything thanks to the friends who help me out, the teachers and my motive to make it possible, ignoring all the ignorant people who always have to think on you. I have learned that in this country for be someone is important to learn and speak English, but you always have to be positive and make that come true. My goal now is to speak, read, write, and understand more by putting more of my part so I can defend my self from everything.
However, there are some other interesting questions that struck me in the process of my writing, and I would like to find out about them sometime. As an immigrant, I know that I still have my country, but what happens to Afro-Americans? How do they feel about still being the minority in their own country? Does color really doesn’t matter? Are most American teenagers expecting to marry Asian women?
My life in early 19th century was very dreadful and scary. I was from a poor family where father goes to work in factories for 12-18 hours a day. I was from Germany. Jews was the most segregated religion in Germany. We did not have full right to do a certain things such as go to certain college to get education, shoe our religion freely to other and enjoy our festival. My father used to get a low wages in work and we have to live with the things we have we have no right to argue back for wages or anything. At that time pneumonia,tuberculosis and influenza were very common dieses. If anybody get sick in family we did not have much money to cure or buy medicine. There was a struggle going on with farmer because industrialist have started making the crops and grains in cheap mony and sell which make the life of farmer hard to live. We also have a little land where we use to farm and live since there is not profit in selling grains than my father start working in factories. My mother used to stay home and prepare food for us. Christian people were persecuting many of my relative and jews...
When my family and I got in the plane that would take us to the U.S., I was very excited. It was as if I had butterflies in my stomach. I was also nervous because I had heard of people that were turned away when they got to America because the government was not letting as many immigrants into the U.S as they had in the past. Therefore, my whole family was a little anxious. Two things could happen when we arrived at the Washington, D.C., airport. We could either come to the United States to chase after “the American dream”, or we could be turned away which meant that we would have to return to our country of origin.
In order to adequately depict my feelings, I must start at the beginning. In the fall of 1996, I embarked on my maiden NYC voyage. Armed with a camera, city guide, and my little sister, I headed for New York to discover myself. As I began this adventure, I had no idea how it would end. When I landed at JFK I was a little girl, trying to have some fun, but by the time I boarded the plane to head home my world had changed.
At a young age, my teachers and parents taught me to believe that I could do and accomplish anything that I set my mind to. I grew up thinking that I was unstoppable and that the only limit to my achievements was the sky. However, during my second year in high school, I began to realize that I was not as unstoppable as I had thought. I began to experience the consequences of my parent’s decision of bringing me to the United States illegally. Among those consequences were, not being able to apply for a job, obtain a driver’s license or take advantage of the dual enrollment program at my high school, simply because I did not possess a social security number. I remember thinking that all of my hard work was in vain and that I was not going to
As a three year old, innocent and clueless, I was on a plane travelling half way across the world to Canada. All I knew, at the time, was that I was leaving Argentina, the country where I was born, lived in for 3 years, and where all of my relatives live, to a country with a different language, a different culture, and different people. My father had already been living in Canada for three months and now, my mother along with my sister and I were making the long 18 hour trek to Canada. At the gate, we said "see you again" to our relatives thinking that we would be back living in Argentina in 3-4 years.
Did you face any challenge in your life ever? What did you do to solve the problem? Did you overcome the setback or was hit back by the challenge? If you defeated the problem, it means you got the ability of resilience. If you was defeated by the problem, I hope this essay can help you set up the ability of resilience.
As a challenge I decided to defeat English. Not to take back my old life but to create myself a new one. I achieve conversational English in less than a year and joined my first English class with my peers in
My story began when I moved to America and got enrolled at a school called Southwestern Elementary. I didn’t speak English at the time so it was difficult to understand what my classmates and teachers were trying to say. I remember it like it was yesterday. I could hear, but I couldn’t really listen and for some time I thought I was deaf. My parents would give me extra work after school to improve my reading skills and I had to take an ESOL class in school, so I would get pulled out of my regular classes once in awhile to go with my ESOL teacher. We would watch videos on grammar and practice reading common English phrases like “Good morning.” or “How are you?”. After practicing and putting in the extra effort to catch up with the rest of my
When I first started school, I really didn’t know any English. It was hard because none of the kids knew what I was saying, and sometimes the teachers didn’t understand what I was saying. I was put in those ELL classes where they teach you English. The room they would take us to was full of pictures to teach us English, and they would make us sit on a red carpet and teach us how to read and write. When I would go back to regular class, I would have to try harder than the other students. I would have to study a little more and work a little harder with reading and writing if I wanted to be in the same level as the other kids in my class. when I got to third grade I took a test for my English and past it I didn’t have to go to does ELL classes anymore because I passed the test, and it felt great knowing that I wouldn’t have to take those classes no more.
The morning of August 25, I woke up with a feeling of dread. It was official, I was a college student and I had to attend my first serious English class. Despite the fact that I always did somewhat decent in my English classes in high school, I always loathed attending them. I always managed to come up with some type of excuse and skip it as much as possible. But now, skipping a class would be like throwing away my money. I never really focused on any subjects, school was never an area that I excelled in. Although I took many more classes that I strongly disliked, I felt as if English was especially useless. I spoke it on a daily basis, I can read and write it fluently, it was a skill that we just had. There was no point in me having to take it, in my opinion, I used to always